


The WeirdChamp Bet

by fleshofmankind



Category: Professional Overwatch RPF
Genre: Confinement, Humiliation, Humor, I'm Not Ashamed, Implied Brideshow, M/M, No Sex, One Shot, Peer Pressure, Plat Chat, Podcast, Pubic Shaving, Public Humiliation, Risky "Mature" Rating, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26489518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleshofmankind/pseuds/fleshofmankind
Summary: The big-brained fivehead known as Sideshow had yet to learn that when he dares the universe to strike him down, the universe does so with glee. On the eve of the 2020 Houston homestand, he accepted a bet that placed his professional legitimacy on the line for a cheap burger. He should've known that his worst fear would be realized, but his natural inclination to challenge fate pushed those thoughts aside.First they came for his eyebrows. Now it goes even lower than he thought possible...
Kudos: 1





	The WeirdChamp Bet

**Author's Note:**

> This is revenge for trashing MCR, Mr. Wilkinson.

"So uh…" Matt cleared his throat, interrupting the discussion on how 1-3-2 will impact hardcore Overwatch sex RPs, "you wanna talk about this Houston homestand?"

Josh adjusted his mic stand before taking a delicate sip of his Coca Cola glass. He put a lot of effort into making sure the logo of the official soft drink of the Overwatch League faced the camera. Confidence exuded from every pore in his noodly body even if his expression didn't show it; the podcast recording had been going well, and the discussions were on-topic and informative.

Except for that one weird diatribe involving Widowmaker's ass. The less said about that, the better.

After the fizzy liquid oozed down his gullet, he monitored the Discord video chat during the lull in the conversation. Matt scratched his finely trimmed beard while the other members spaced out. Bren gazed toward something out of frame while Jonny slouched in his gamer seat, his head barely in frame.

"The real question here, right," Jonny blurted out, Swedish accent coloring his speech, "will the Outlaws win any of their matches?"

Josh shook his head. "It's clear that they have absolutely no idea what they're doing. They just look so unprepared. It was a miracle they took Boston to 7 maps at all."

Jonny swiveled in his seat. "Uh, I mean, sure..." Playing devil's advocate for the Outlaws was impossible, but he had to try. "But they got talented players, they got Harsha, dude - all the tools are there to turn things around, they just gotta use them."

"Did you not watch that interview with Dream? The guy's an absolute pepega, switching out Rapel and Rawkus every map, putting Blase on McCree? So many weird decisions that they haven't learned a thing from. And talented players? Bro, Muma's been throwing games like an Olympic shot putter. They won't even take a map, there's no way."

"Yeah, Josh has a point," Matt mumbled.

He nodded back, stringy curls of hair bobbing as he did.

A likely scenario, but Josh needed his W's. All over Twitter and in the comment sections of his YouTube videos were people shitting on his hot takes. Omegaluls dashed through his Twitch chat at lightning speeds whenever he streamed. If he made one right analysis, it could build up momentum and public perception would shift the other way.

The rest of the hosts offered little resistance to this take. How could anyone argue that the Outlaws would not collapse completely during the weekend homestand? His reasons were solid, backed by facts and logic. No one would dare say anything different. Josh smirked; the road to intellectual redemption was in sight.

However, like a pigeon being eviscerated by a high-speed train, Josh's confidence took an immediate dip. Though Jonny and Matt were indifferent, it was the expression on the fourth member that nearly stopped his heart.

Brennon Hook. The wild card of the group. Unpredictable and inconsistent. No one could ever get a handle on his intentions, not even Josh, his fellow Brit. One moment he would look uninterested in the conversation, the next he would completely pumble it with an out-of-left-field observation. He had a habit of derailing topics and throwing out wild theories, and despite the irritation of his co-hosts, it provided much of Plat Chat’s entertainment value.

The Bren that Josh saw had shaken him to his core. While normally hard to read, Bren’s expression was... twisted. His eyelids peeled back, mouth agape. Panting like a beast in heat, slobber dripping down his chapped lips, unable to hold back the extreme carnal power that was now bursting through his webcam. It wasn't that he was excited or was itching for a verbal fight. His entire life, his purpose for existing in this world, was approaching, and Josh knew it.

For the seventh time in his life, the man known as Sideshow found himself submerged in a deep, agonizing fear. His very soul was in danger of being obliterated by an unyielding evil creature.

"Oh, really?!" Bren's voice cracked as he finally released his chad energy. "Listen, I'm not gonna stand for you guys poo-pooing Houston. Their performance was bad the last few games, sure, but this is the weekend they'll turn it around, I know it."

Josh's eye twitched. "You were with me when you saw those games, Bren. Did you not see Blase's aim? Or how awful their strats were?" He kept raising his newly formed eyebrows, as if to indicate to Bren to get with the script and to not ruin the show.

"Oh Josh," Bren laughed. "You're forgetting that they have the absolute hitscan god, Linkzr, and that they'll have home field advantage. Also, it's not like the other teams have been amazing either; Toronto has been inconsistent, and if it weren't for Glister, London would've gotten dumpstered."

Josh shook. His big brain struggled to come up with any comebacks. It wasn't like he was blanking on ways to pick at Bren's statement; Toronto proved to be strong on dive and beat a fantastic-looking Paris team, and London had rookies that were predicted to be game changers later in the season. However, judging by the devil-may-care attitude of his challenger, those observations would be tossed aside like the rubbish they were.

Bren wasn't done, either. "Houston isn't just going to win one game, or both games; they're going to _clean_! _Sweep_!"

"Come on, Bren," Josh chuckled, stretching the neckline of his shirt. "Is this a bit or what?"

The other members of Plat Chat took notice. Matt shifted in his chair, looking anywhere but at his screen. Jonny was the opposite, mortified but enraptured, as if he was watching a beheading.

"No no, this is serious." Bren paused for a moment, licking his lips. "I'll bet on it."

Josh wiped his large forehead, drenched in sweat. "I, uh... okay," he shrugged. "Like... actual money, or..."

"Let's start with, ah," Bren gazed up, rubbing his chin. "So, if Houston just bombs out, what will I have to do for you?"

Josh told himself to not push it, lest he make this much worse. "I dunno, um, buy me lunch or something?" It had to be from Arby's, the future official fast-food joint of the Overwatch League, but at least he'll get a free Smokehouse Brisket out of it.

That didn't stop Bren's conniving. He tried to respond, but kept degrading into uncontrollable laughter. The question of what he was planning burned a hole in Josh's stomach. "Mate, what's so funny?!" Despite his prodding, the suspense wore down his psyche. He covered his mouth, moments away from hyperventilating.

"Well, uh," Matt mumbled, finally working up the courage to speak, "y'know, this Paris versus Atlanta game will be pretty nutty. Right?"

"Holy shit, Bren, breathe!" Jonny screamed at his mic, dismissing Matt's attempt to steer the conversation away to a more sensible topic.

"Okay, okay," Bren sniffled, choking out a few more laughs before clearing his throat. "If I'm right, if Houston takes all their maps..." A long pause. All the other members' eyes were glued to their screens.

"You gotta shave your pubes."

Those words slapped Josh like a gale force. He rocked back on his chair, nearly toppling over. "I _what_?!"

"And I don't mean, like, in the bathroom by yourself, it has to be streamed live." Bren nodded with a confident smirk.

"Streamed?! You realize I'm already on thin ice with the League after all those leaks in the off-season. This will get me shitcanned, Bren! Shitcanned!"

Bren dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Just stream it on All-Access, mate, it'll be fine."

"All-Access. Really." Josh couldn't believe what he was hearing. He scrunched his face and shook his head, opening his eyes to see that this wasn't, in fact, a dream. "Even if it was running on YouTube - which it's not, let me remind you - I'm sure any images of my beautiful schlong will get me banned for life from everything. I can't even look for other casting work elsewhere if that happens!"

"Um, about that..."

As Josh's eyes skated toward Matt and Jonny, he froze as he noticed they looked unsure of his last statement.

"There's no All-Access," he exclaimed. It was less to convince the others and more to convince himself.

"We were talking about it last week, dude," Jonny reluctantly spoke, "Since YouTube isn't able to get the All-Access Pass working on their side, Blizzard reached out to OnlyFans and they became the official All-Access provider of the Overwatch League. We can do whatever we want there."

"'Course, it isn't that popular. Only Super's putting out content and no one's turning up to watch him." Matt tilted his head, thinking for a second. "You know what, if the on-camera talent does something on OnlyFans All-Access, it might convince more people to pay for it. The League would totally be down for this."

"Guys, are you serious right now?" Josh huffed. "You're not trying to convince me to get my pubes shaved off in front of millions of people, are you?"

"Wait, like, Jonny, are you going to keep this all in anyway?" Matt squawked. "If the fans could convince Josh to shave his eyebrows, then it'll only be a matter of time before they convince him to shave his pubes."

The Swede snickered. "Why would I remove it? This shit's hilarious."

Josh blew his lips, flopping his arms. Matt had a point, unfortunately. His brand couldn't take the hit that would come from turning the bet down. Imagine, xXx_futawidow-cock_xXx calling him the "biggest coward in existence" on r/competitiveoverwatch. Everyone knows that's the premier place for OWL juice. How would anyone take him seriously after that?

"Fuck, sure, whatever. I look forward to that burger on Monday," Josh groaned back.

The podcast eventually returned to normalcy as the hosts continued to discuss the Houston homestand. After Jonny mentioned something about a planned Cosplay Orgy Room in the Cambria Hotel, it was almost as if the pube-shaving conversation never happened. However, Josh became quieter the longer the episode dragged on, the bet becoming a black hole that enveloped his mind.

The best teams have little chance of pulling off a clean sweep, and Houston was miles from even being considered good. They were coming into the homestand with a four match loss streak; the only map wins so far were off of the undisputed worst team in the league. There were better odds of Gesture owning a flower shop than on Houston winning.

Josh shouldn't be worried. Theoretically. Stranger things have happened though, and with Bren's crazed expression burned into his brain, he had a nagging suspicion that the odds would be closer than logic would have him believe.

* * *

As the camera panned over the Houston crowd, a sea of blurred faces and green jerseys mixed together. Once the music started, everyone jumped to their feet, hooping and hollering like it was New Years.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you thought that barn-burner of a game was it for us, but we're just getting to the main event!"

While the stage was being prepared for the so-called "main event", the jumbo screen transitioned to show the two color commentators in hte back of the stands. They, much like the fans holding up vulgar signs behind them, could barely contain their excitement.

"I'm Achilios joined, as always, by Wolf - and let me tell you, we're about to witness history."

"That's right," the taller of the two responded with a wide grin. "For those who don't know, one of the on-air talent for the Overwatch League, Sideshow, made a bet that the Outlaws could not clean sweep both their games during their homestand."

"Safe bet to make, admittedly," Achilios added with a shrug.

"Well, he didn't count on Linkzr completely shutting down the Spitfire DPS line, or the Brig-Lucio comp rolling over Toronto." The audience made their presence, and preference, known whenever the hometown team got a call out.

"Amazing stuff. Not even the folks back in LA expected that. And thanks to these performances, those in the Revention Music Center and those on OnlyFans All-Access are about to witness a man getting his pubes shaved live on stage for the first time in OWL history!"

The Texan crowd went wild.

"During the Apex days," Wolf started, which got an eye roll from his casting partner, "there was talk about doing something like this, but y'know, with content rules on Twitch and some cultural differences, it never got off the ground. It's one benefit of the homestand format; we get to push the boundaries of what people thought possible in the esports industry."

"Yep, and I'm lucky to be casting this for everyone tonight. But how are you all feeling?" Achilios turned behind him. "Is everyone excited?!"

The resulting cheer was ear-shattering. Any louder and the building would've collapsed in on itself. Achilios staggered back, holding his hands over his headphones.

"Well, I guess that answers that question!" He yelled back. "I think it's time to bring him out. Put your hands together for Sideshow!"

As the entrance music started, grunting and girly squealing from Josh's lav mic blasted out of the speakers. Two figures, one on each side, manhandled him to the center of the stage. Even from a distance, it was easy to pick out the curly-haired fivehead's escort: Malik, dollar store cowboy hat still donned, and world famous bench-warmer ChipSa, resembling a fat hentai rapist.

Josh was nervous, breathing deeply to prepare for what was to come. The enormous crowd was overwhelming him. He hadn't expected so many people, and there were many more watching on OnlyFans All-Access. The massive screens showed his facial expression change in real-time: eyes widening, pupils dilating, eyebrows twitching, even beads of sweat racing down his pale temples. Josh was truly a scared boy.

"And there he is. The fact we could get him down to Houston on such short notice was as much of a miracle as the Outlaw's clean sweeps," Achilios remarked.

"Speaking of luck, I was lucky enough to get Sideshow to answer some questions regarding his, uh, hair down there. He told me he has done no trimming for years, and when I asked him to clarify, he responded 'what do I look like, a gay?'"

The crowd erupted with laughter and applause.

"Sounds like there's going to be a huge mess to clean after this is all done. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, we gotta wait just a moment before everything is ready."

Josh was led to the center of the stage, where his two burly escorts forced him to sit on a plastic fold-out chair. They bound his wrists behind the chair and his ankles to the front legs. The spotlight focused, blinding him for the moment. All he was able to do was whimper pathetically as his punishment drew ever closer.

"Now, while our lovely assistants get things prepped, let's discuss the question on everyone's mind: who's going to do the honors?"

Achilios bobbed his head. "Lotta volunteers from the production team, but it was obvious who would be the one to-"

With no warning, the lights overhead went out, plunging the venue into darkness. Confused murmurs spread throughout the audience, but the music clued in everyone to what was happening.

"He's here."

The strobe lights turned on, casting a dizzying array of colors throughout the room. All the attention focused upward as the audience pointed and shouted to someone in the balcony.

Descending from above like an angel was a man with his arms outstretched. The legendary Bridowmaker, the undefeated Brenzo, the deadly Brenji — he had made his Season Three debut with certain victory in sight. The crew made few modifications to his wardrobe. Rather than tight pants and a furred jacket, he donned the full Widowmaker bodysuit which barely covered his meaty nipples. Everything about him gave off an otherworldly vibe, from his power and cool confidence, to the dazzling smile he gave to the audience.

Bren's voice boomed throughout the Revention Music Center. "It's time for you to pay for your hubris, Joshua Wilkinson!" He pointed accusingly at his prey, the man tied to the chair at center stage.

"What the fuck..." was all Josh could mutter.

By the time his flip-flops hit the ground, the stage flooded with smoke. The spotlights focused all its attention on the challenger, posing his hands into finger-guns and mock-shooting it at the electric crowd.

"Bren with the theatrical entrance!" Achilios bellowed. "Personally speaking, I'm shocked we had the budget for all this."

"What's this?" Wolf pointed to the wings, where a stage slave slithered out with a microphone in hand. Bren didn't wait for the hunchback creature to come to him, marching over and snatching it out of his hands. "Looks like he has something to say. Let's listen in."

Bren attempted to speak, but the speakers threw out some sharp feedback. Though it stunned him for a moment, he quickly regained his swagger. He nodded to another stage slave who was giving him the thumbs-up, before trying again.

"Ladies, gentlemen - you all know why you're here. Today is a day of reckoning. Today is judgment day. You see that man over there?" He stretched his neck to point at Josh. "This man has gone unchallenged for far too long. He believes he can spew out whatever garbage his little egghead comes up with and say whatever he wants about whoever he wants. But not anymore."

He turned to the crowd. "I'm going to teach him a lesson. I'm going to teach all of you a lesson. I'm going to teach all of America - no, the entire world a lesson! Nobody disrespects the Bridowmaker!"

The crowd cried out with support. Those on the floor rushed towards the stage to get a more intimate vantage point of all the action. Dozens upon dozens of phones were raised, all recording the moment for posterity.

Handing the mic away, Bren's focus turned to Josh. Even with his limbs tied to the plastic chair, Malik and ChipSa kept their hands on the manlet's shoulders to prevent him from slipping away. If it weren't for them, Josh would be in another state by now. In his eyes was pure fear.

"Bren, don't do this."

As he approached, Josh's squirming became more frantic. What he wasn't expecting was his jeans being ripped from his body, exposing his lustrous boomerang briefs. "Oooh"'s and "aaah"'s came from the audience.

Bren cocked his head, losing the heel persona as he gazed on the tight fitting underwear. "Don't tell me you actually wear that, like, regularly, dude."

The pantless pepega blurted out a nervous squeak. "What? You don't?"

"Bro, why you gotta embarrass yourself further?" Bren shook his head and pulled Josh's undies off in one quick motion. A loud squeal came from the exposed analyst as nothing was left to the imagination. A cameraman dollied into his junk, the texture rendered in extreme detail on the jumbo screens. Bren held up the underwear like a trophy fish, turning slowly in a circle to let everyone see then tossing them into the crowd. Everyone scrambled to snatch a piece of memorabilia from this once in a lifetime event.

"And it looks like we're jumping right in!" Achilios announced. "Even with the pants off, you can see Bren's taking his time here; he isn't making any moves just yet, Wolf."

"He's showing some amazing restraint. With a bush as thick as that, you really have to plan carefully and think about what tools you have to handle such an overgrowth effectively. Bren's got a lot of patience; I know I would've dived in and started taking care of Sideshow's problem head-on if I were in his shoes." Wolf smacked his lips, grin stretching across his face.

"I, uh..." Achilios glanced to his casting partner, eyebrows raised, before building his composure back up. "I'm sure you would have, Wolf. But wait, his patience is paying off!" He pointed out another monstrosity of the production crew, delicately cupping a leather storage bag. "Those aren't just any shaving tools, notice the logo in the middle? It's the Perfect Package 2.0 by Manscaped, the official male grooming product of the Overwatch League!"

With the bag in his hands, Bren fished through the contents. Besides the top quality trimmer, he procured a collection of oils and sprays and laid it on the floor, right next to Josh's feet.

"An amazing line-up of products, the only ones that can take on such a gargantuan task. I've been using their ball deodorant especially, and my crotch has never smelled fresher," Achilios proudly proclaimed.

"I agree," Wolf smirked, "but the question is whether Bren has the skill to use these well. Even a seasoned pube trimmer would be intimidated by what Josh has."

Josh was in agony. It was one thing to be bare and vulnerable in front of the world, but it was another to make a spectacle out of it. Having his eyebrows shaved was a walk in the park compared to the indignity he was facing. He struggled with accepting his punishment, but he knew that if he tried to resist, the audience and the Internet would only mock him further.

"Just... get it over with," he whimpered.

Bren didn't need directions from the malding man, bringing the buzzing trimmer down in a slow stroke from the middle of his belly button to the top of his bush. Thankfully, the Perfect Package 2.0 lived up to its name. The trimmer swiftly cut through Josh's fur, carving out a picturesque line of bald skin.

"A perfect first cut! What a pro!"

Bren took a second to survey the rest of Josh's bush. The trimmer was working beautifully, but there were uneven patches and wispy hairs it had missed. He tweezed the problem hairs by hand, making Josh yelp and squirm as they plucked out painfully. Before long he was back to shearing through the forest of pubes. Josh couldn't help but cry like a schoolgirl whenever the trimmer got close to his fun bits.

"That Perfect Package trimmer works beautifully," Achilios noted. "No cuts or bruising, and it doesn't even leave a stubble behind. Even if we weren't sponsored, I'd still wholly recommend it to, well, anyone."

The trimmer curved under his manhood, following the contours as sliced more coarse hair. As the work was being done, the air conditioning blew a cold breeze on his pelvis where there was once hair guarding it. A pinch of his genitalia gave the trimmer enough space to slice off the stringy hairs on his scrotum. The movement under his sac made him jump. The more Josh squirmed, the more the crowd roared in delight.

After a few minutes, the hair around his wiener was clear, but Bren had more to go. He slipped his hands underneath Josh and scooted his hips forward, lifting his butt off the chair and pulling his cheeks apart.

"Wait, Bren!" Josh cried. "Don't show my butthole on camera!"

But it was too late. Bren shaved a vertical line up Josh's crack, clearing hair from the sensitive valley below.

"You can tell Bren had learned from some of the best South Korean manscapers," Wolf added. "He's using one of the forbidden techniques, the 'bioghan sal-inja'. Funny story about that, back in Apex, I was out with Ariel - if you don't remember, he was one of the tank players for GC Busan, but anyway, he-"

While Wolf reminisced, Bren cleared more and more hair from the sensitive area. The grazing against his undercarriage made Josh shiver, and it was getting dangerously close to his chocolate starfish. While he tried everything to prevent it from getting close, the trimmer mercilessly pushed forward. It passed his taint, and it activated the sensitive nerves around his hole. He shuddered, but the line had to be finished. Every swipe brought Josh closer to tears.

"Looks like that's that," the Bridowmaker grinned.

He wagged the trimmer, the pile of pubes piling on the floor around the chair, then handed it off to one of the gremlin-like assistants. He put on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbed one bottle labeled "Crop Preserver" and poured a fat load of cream onto his palm, then got to working the lotion into Josh's groin.

"-but to make a long story short," Wolf concluded, "that's how I lost my left nut."

"Bren's just about done," Achilios noted, avoiding any comments on the meandering story his co-commentator regaled. "I got to say, he’s just an absolute beast. I dunno whether he's been practicing, or he's just that good at shaving crotch hair."

"I've never seen such a fantastic display of pube-shearing before," Wolf said. "Hell, I've seen some of the best in Korea at work, and he's even better."

The spandex-wearing shaver took a few steps back and admired his handiwork. The shininess of Josh's newly depilated skin ensured that everyone's eyes were trained on it, much to his agony. His enormous forehead had become a waterfall of sweat as he clenched his teeth so hard, it was moments away from shattering. At least the worst of it was over.

"Feast your eyes, folks; the first live pube shaving in esports history!"

The commentators hit a switch and the jumbo screen displayed a before and after comparison, the crowd responding with a standing ovation and a barrage of catcalls. Confetti rained as triumphant music blared, light flashing from the audience as people took photos of Josh's bald pelvis. He sat still, a piece of puce mylar stuck to his brow, and waited to be released from the chair. He took small comfort that the torture was moments away from ending.

"Alright, let's get you back on your feet, Sideshow," Achilios announced. "I'm sure you have a lot to say after that!"

The two putting pressure on his shoulders released their grip and began undoing the ropes around Josh's limbs. Though the bindings felt ungodly tight, he could feel his fingers again. He wriggled them around a bit, circulation being restored, and not long after he was standing. The lights were blinding, the noise was deafening, and the stench of freshly sheared pubes served as a constant reminder of what had just occurred. Josh was too aware of a certain unmentionable dangling between his legs, right in view of the rabid fans and hungry cameras.

With one hand over his eyes, he barely made out Wolf's sniveling grin as the crowd chanted "BRIDOW! BRIDOW!" in deafening unison. He was having a difficult enough time trying not to lose his mind as it was, but the ear-piercing screams of the crowd drove him closer and closer to breaking down.

As his irises dropped downward, Josh noticed a mic. One of the backstage goblins slipped it into his grip while he was suffering from sensory overload. His vision tunneled at the sight of it. The longer he held it, the more it weighed his noodle arm down.

They want to embarrass him further? Poke and prod at his psyche until nothing is left? Nah, he's done.

Like Soldier 76's Biotic Field, Josh slammed the mic onto the ground. The feedback not only killed the audience's shouting, it sent them somersaulting over the back of their seats. The other three on the stage cringed and cradled their ears like they were about to rip off. Now was his chance. Josh sprinted toward the wings of the stage with all the grace of an anime fan on prom night. Members of the crew tried to stop him, but their fragile Redditor bodies couldn't withstand the power of a man who just overcame hell itself.

Back in the theater, the occupants were recovering from the auditory attack. Achilios, pulling himself up from the ground, attempted to reorient while fixing his spectacles. His hair stood up in every direction and confetti stuck to his cheap suit while he gave the camera a wild look. "What just happened?!"

"Well," Wolf started, stroking his chin. "I think he escaped."

"We need to evacuate?!" Achilios yelled, sticking out his ear.

"No! Sideshow escaped!" Wolf repeated, though his volume never grew higher than a mumble.

"I'm sorry to hear that! I didn't know you had a side hoe!"

Wolf shrugged. "Let's go with that. We won't be getting a post-cut interview either way."

"No, I don't know how much the avenue weighs! But Wolf, we’re forgetting something! We still have to award the Shaver of the Match! And I think we all know who it is!" Achilios called out to the crowd, and the few that hadn't gone deaf wooed. "That's right, it's ChipSa!"

The screen cut to a picture of the unlucky British DPS player, with the "Shaver of the Match" title right next to his mug. As the discussion began, ChipSa's visage faded into a montage of some of his best moments during the pube cutting.

"There were a lot of doubters when ChipSa was first brought into the League, but he's proving the haters wrong. I don't think this would've been nearly as successful if it weren't for his calming, comforting presence," Wolf declared, motioning to the jumbo screen where ChipSa's toady face leered at Josh's sideshow. Wolf left some dead air for Achilios to jump in, but the silence soon grew to an awkward length. He looked over to his co-commentator, who kept pressing his earpiece down. "Achilios?"

"Uh..." Achilios' eyes darted to the camera, Wolf, and an unknown producer somewhere in the VIP boxes up above. "I hate to cut this short, but turns out that we're about to get an interview with Sideshow...?!" Even Wolf staggered back in surprise. "Let's throw it over to Mitch Leslie!"

The screen quickly switched to a stubbled man with a flashy coif. It was difficult to make out the location as the camera shook uncontrollably while trained on the Aussie.

"Mitch Leslie here," he panted, "and I'm here in the parking lot of the Revention Music Center, haah... running alongside Sideshow."

A sharp pan brought the man of the hour into view. Josh kept sprinting like he was being chased by an eight hundred pound gorilla, weaving through parked cars and light posts all to lose the crew tailing him. One hand covered his junk, but with his focus being on speed, the limp trouser-snake poked its head out more often than he would've liked.

"Sideshow," Mitch started, already gasping for air, "Walk us back; put us in the moment. How did it feel to get your pubes publicly shaved?"

Josh stared at the mic being shoved in his face with a nasty grimace. "It's the most humiliating thing I've ever been through! Fuck, if I had the choice, I'd live eyebrowless than even think of doing that!" He started speeding up, as did the camera following him. Only a wall could stop him and even that was up for debate.

"Is it better without hair down there?" Another wheeze came out of Mitch. "Your head hair is pretty pube-like, have you considered shoving some up your asscrack as a replacement?"

"What are you, a child? No!" Josh nearly tripped as he faced the interviewer. "Pube-like hair? The fuck does that even mean?!"

Mitch rapidly ran out of breath and struggled to get in the last few words. "Last question, you've made a lot of bets lately. Will there be any more?"

"I'm done with bets! No more hair shaving, I'm not fucking eating toenail cake or whatever any of you come up with - this is the last one!" Josh faced the camera with a seething rage never before seen. "You hear me?! NO MORE BETS!"


End file.
